The hill that I made K walk up. We are about half way up.
San Francisco
Today we had most of a day off so we decided to take the open top tour bus and see the city. It was a marvellous day, clear and sunny and about 72 degrees F. Like most city tours it was a good source of trivia, and a great way to see all the sights. The concierge gave us directions to the nearest stop and we set off to walk a couple of blocks. It was much closer than we thought and we got there way too early. What happened next was almost inevitable. K had the tour bus map, so she gave me the city map. I would have to say that I am frequently cartographically challenged, more, I suspect, from a lack of attention to detail rather than an actual problem reading maps. She looked on her map to find out where the next bus stop was, and I charted a route on the other map. First problem: the street that appeared to go just where we wanted to go ended in a cliff that towered about10 stories above us. We diverted to a parallel street, which was an extreme climb upwards for about 3 blocks. In some places the slope was almost like climbing stairs. When we got to the top, there were stairs, about 10 flights of them leading up to near where we wanted to be. If walking up was hard, walking down was just as hard. It turned out that the park we wanted was back down the other side. I felt like the bear who went over the mountain.
The bus ride was good…we got seats on the top right at the front, which is my favourite spot. The spiel was pre-recorded, which never seems as good as the live ones. Some of the things that I learned: The new Academy of Science building is insulated with recycled blue jeans; Ghiardelli makes enough chocolate chips in a year to reach from here to the moon; the Tenderloin district was once described as the “Heart of the low and vile” and the area where our hotel is was once underwater, and there are still several ships underneath the ground here.
We stopped at the corner of Haight and Ashbury, a place I haven’t been for many, many years. It used to be more vibrant and colourful, or maybe my memory just painted it that way. The summer of love, 1967, is remembered in many ways, some of them silly. I saw a dog walking company called The Grateful Dog. We went by Golden Gate Park, where I slept under the starts. At that time sleeping in the park seemed like an adventure, and normal, and now it seems like a failure of the social structure.
Panhandle Park was once a place of sand dunes, which the wind regularly blew here and there. The city hired an army engineer to stabilize it. First he planted barley, then a variety of grasses. Once it was stable, he travelled all over the world and brought back various trees to grow there and hold everything together. It must have been a mammoth task, and the large number of buildings in the area shows how successful he was. I wonder if it would even be possible now, given environmental controls and concerns about importing alien plants.
We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, and even though it was a clear day, the tops of the suspension towers were invisible in the fog. The Bay is beautiful, and it’s easy to see why wealthy people all wanted to build on the sides of the hills that provided the view. There’s a street called Divisidero that reputedly separates the sunny part of SF from the foggy part, but the views are spectacular whichever way you look. A sad reminder that everyone doesn’t go to the bridge for the view, though, is the signs that say “bridge emergency phones and counsellors”. It’s a long way down and a very fast current.
Sometimes I hear things that strike me as funny even though they are not intended to be. The bus was describing the variety of music to be found in SF. “From hip hop to classical, from gay to jazz”. I understand the intention of the first pair, but my mind struggles with the continuum from gay to jazz.
The architecture here reflects the moderate climate. Houses and apartments are built in ways that are not possible in places where it gets cold. Lots of sticking out bay windows and bow windows, with curved glass, too expensive if you need triple glazing. Flat roofs, outdoor staircases and outdoor gardens on the hillsides all add up to a great deal of charm. It’s balanced, however, by the large number of apparently homeless people sleeping on the streets and in the parks.
We ended up back at the Embarcadero and decided to have lunch at Pier 39, supposedly the most-visited spot in SF. It certainly appeared to be popular. We had a great lunch; I had crab cakes since Dungeness crab seems to be on every menu here. After that we decided to walk along the waterfront to Ghirardelli Square. The old factory has now become what my Vietnamese friends refer to as “touristical”, but it has great views over the Maritime Museum and the Bay. We couldn’t leave without sampling something, so a Ghirardelli banana split with a view of Alcatraz seemed like a good thing to do.
Our last plan for the day was to take a cable car back towards the hotel, but a one hour wait seemed overwhelming so we walked back to where we could catch the tour bus again, and headed for home. It was a great day, but our brains were full so it seemed like a good time to quit. Bread and cheese and fresh tomatoes for supper, and early to bed